


Priority: Ballroom

by BardofHeartDive, Kate_Shepard



Series: Fanficcing With Friends [3]
Category: Mass Effect - All Media Types, Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Dance, Ballroom Dancing, Custom Shepard (Mass Effect), Dancing, Dancing with the stars - Freeform, F/M, Flirting, Fluff, Innuendo, Kissing, No Incest, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-27
Updated: 2020-02-27
Packaged: 2021-02-28 07:00:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22909768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BardofHeartDive/pseuds/BardofHeartDive, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kate_Shepard/pseuds/Kate_Shepard
Summary: Sully Shepard has done some crazy things in his life, everything from streaking naked through the Normandy's docking bay to going head to head with a Reaper on foot and winning. All the same, signing up for a galactic dance show for the sole purpose of meeting pro dancer Veerla Sterling may take the cake. After saving the galaxy, can the first human Spectre conquer the ballroom?
Relationships: Female Shepard/Male Shepard (Mass Effect), Shepard/Shepard (Mass Effect)
Series: Fanficcing With Friends [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1240211
Comments: 3
Kudos: 8





	Priority: Ballroom

**Author's Note:**

> Bard: I cannot tell you how excited I was when Kate approached me with the idea for the fic. After all, the only thing better than a Dancing with the Stars AU is a Mass Effect/Dancing with the Stars AU. I had so much fun working on it, especially with an awesome co-author, and hope you enjoy!
> 
> Sully Shepard is Kate's. Veerla Sterling (Shepard) is Bard's.

“I’m sorry, you’re doing  _ what _ ?” Kaidan asked, visibly trying to keep his jaw from dropping.

“ _ Dancing In the Stars: Citadel _ ,” Sully repeated. “It’s this show where famous people get paired up with professional dancers and compete with—”

“I know what it is, Shepard,” Kaidan said. “Remember, I showed you that vid of Veerla Sterling’s dance with Blasto last week. If I recall correctly, you said, ‘Hot damn, I’d humiliate myself in front of the entire galaxy for just one dance with her.’” His eyes widened. “Oh.  _ Oh! _ Wow. Okay. I thought you were joking.” 

Kaidan rubbed the back of his neck, and Sully grinned. “Yep. Your Australian accent sucks, by the way.”

Kaidan rolled his eyes. “I’m Canadian. What do you expect?”

“More effort next time,” Sully laughed.

Kaidan shook his head. “Okay, boss. Whatever you say. Good luck. I’ll, ah, try not to laugh too hard.”

“Thanks for all your love and support,” Sully drawled. 

It was going to be fine. Hell, he’d streaked naked down the docking bay to D24  _ and back  _ right in front of Diana Allers on a dare from Joker. She’d caught the whole thing and broadcast it after the war. This couldn’t possibly be any worse than that, right?

* * *

Kallo was running late so Veerla settled into the couch in the lounge to wait.

She had…mixed feelings about her star for the season. Not the man himself but how he’d come to be paired with her. Though they hadn’t been officially announced, even to the other pros, tentative pairings had been in place for months and she was dancing with Polgara T’Suzsa, a champion kepesh yakshi player. And then, not two days before the season’s casting went public, Khalisa had pulled her into her office to tell her that Polgara was dancing with Kelly now and she was getting a new star. She’d never heard of anything like this happening in her nearly ten years with the show. She didn’t like it.

The door swung open, interrupting her contemplation, and James entered the studio. He grinned when he saw her and flopped down onto the couch, bouncing her on the springs. For a man so light on his feet on the dance floor, she was pretty sure he enjoyed being utterly graceless off it. 

“You’ve got your work cut out for you this time.” He bumped his shoulder into hers. “I am coming for that Glitter Ball.”

“Big talk for a guy who didn’t make Week 4 last season,” she teased. “Who’d you get?”

“Zula’Tasar vas Ulnay. Apparently there’s a sequel for Fleet and Flotilla in the works and they’re trying to drum up some publicity. Scott got Francis Kitt and he is over the moon. You?”

“Commander Sean Shepard.”

“Commander…” James quirked an eyebrow at her. “That guy who went viral on the extranet for ‘dancing’ at Flux in his armor?”

“I was going to go with ‘Alliance N7, first human Spectre, and Savior of the Galaxy.’”

“He had a sniper rifle on his back.”

“So there’s room for improvement. You know just as well as I do that being the best dancer has nothing to do with winning. Ashley and Pallin made it all the way to the quarter finals and it definitely wasn’t on judges’ scores.”

James conceded the point with a shrug. “Heh, maybe this is payback for not cooperating with Khalisa’s Blasto romance idea.”

“Yeah, fuck that,” she answered, rolling her eyes. “I’m not going to pretend to be interested in some guy just because she thinks it makes for better ratings. If I wanted to be on a dating show I’d have tried out for  _ The Galaxy’s Most Eligible _ .” Her omni-tool buzzed. “That’s Kallo. Time to go meet the man, the myth, the legend.”

“Just watch your feet!” James called after her, “I’ve got a pair of steel-toed boots at the apartment if you need them!”

* * *

If he’d expected cameras in his face to ever feel normal to him, Sully would have been disappointed. He looked around the crowded docking bay at the hordes of people involved in getting this interview set up. He wasn’t even sure most of them had real jobs to do here and hadn’t just taken advantage of the laxer security to sneak in. However, he didn’t see the one face he was really looking forward to. 

Developing a crush on a stranger was not something Sean Sullivan Shepard did. It just wasn’t. He was solidly the ‘don’t hate the player, hate the game’ type. But from the moment Kaidan had shown him that video, he’d known he had to meet this woman. Enough so that he, the infamously shittiest dancer in the whole damn galaxy, was willing to shake his ass on intergalactic television just to do it. And all it had taken was a single phone call. 

Who said being the savior of the galaxy didn’t have perks?

A dark head weaved its way through the crowd toward him, and he focused on projecting effortless nonchalance. The railing dug into his ass when he leaned back against it with  _ Normandy  _ in the background behind him, but he knew crossing his arms over his chest made his muscles bulge. Which was great. As long as she liked burly guys, of course. Hell, for all he knew, she went for asari. Or skinny guys who could actually dance. Shit. This was a terrible idea. What was he thinking?

She was standing right in front of him, so he said, “Hi. I’m Commander Shepard.” Which was about the dumbest intro he could give. He sounded like he was a teenager again trying to get laid behind the servo. She was going to hate him.

“Veerla. Or Vee.” Her smile was small but genuine as she offered him her hand. Then she turned and nodded to the salarian behind her with a camera bot floating over his shoulder. “That’s Kallo; he’ll be filming and handling your solo interviews.”

The vid had barely done her justice, missing the soft gold undertones of her olive skin and the shine of her pale purple eyes, almost like backlit amethyst. With her black hair up in a messy bun, he could see a collection of stars tattooed on the nape of her neck. Constellations, he thought, though he didn’t recognize them as any from Earth. There was lean muscle under her curves and a relaxed elegance to her posture, subtle reminders of her profession.

“Are you familiar with the show at all?” she asked.

He rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah. I, ah, I’ve seen an episode or six. I’ll have you know, I do a mean chicken dance. Best this side of the Terminus.”

“I believe you,” she said, though the tease in her voice made him doubt that she actually did.

“We usually do a short introduction,” Kallo cut in. The bot whirled around them once, then flashed on a light making him squint. If it bothered her, she didn’t show it. “Who you are, what you’re known for, so if you don’t mind…?”

He nodded once. “All right. My name is Sean Sullivan Shepard, but don’t put that in there, please. It’s just Sully. My mum has a sick sense of humor. Sean Shepard, who does that to their kid? I swear, she was trying to get me beaten up in school. Anyway. So, yeah. I’m Commander Shepard. You can call me Sully. I’m a musician. My hobbies are hanging up on the Council, Skyllian Five, footie, and saving the galaxy. I’ve done it three times now, so I’m pretty good at it.”

“And what made you want to come on the show?” Veerla asked.

“Blasto,” he blurted out. No way in hell was he going to admit it was because of her. Pissed off vorcha wouldn’t get that bit of intel from him. “We have history, you know.”

“So do I,” she admitted with a chuckle, mostly for his benefit, he thought. “He was my partner last season. We took home the Glitter Ball so you’ve got big shoes to fill.”

He scoffed. “Let’s do this. I can beat Blasto, easy. Did you see the movie we did together? I was way better. Everyone said so. …What’s a glitter ball?” 

He kicked himself. Everyone was going to wonder how the hell he managed to save the galaxy when he couldn’t even manage a conversation with a pretty girl without looking like an idiot. Oh well. In for a penny, in for a pound. Fuck it, in other words. 

The bot shut off its spotlight and Kallo started muttering about cuts and edits but Veerla just blinked at him. “The Glitter Ball Trophy. The grand prize. The thing you’re trying to win. You sure you’ve seen this show?”

“Yeah,” he said. He’d seen enough. “I’ve seen all your dances and shit. You probably do a better chicken than me, come to think about it. But just wait till you see my Robot. It’s killer.”

“I’m looking forward to it.” 

Damn. She thought he was a complete dumbass. What the hell had he gotten himself into this time?

* * *

Commander Shepard—Sully—was not what she had expected. The handful of soldiers she’d coached before had taught her they were not nearly as serious off-duty as the media and the war had led her to believe. Hard workers, yes, good at taking direction and willing to try out any step or trick she threw at them, but just as silly and outgoing as any of the other stars. Even so, Sully took it to a whole new level. He had a personality as big as his reputation and a sense of humor that fit better with a class clown than galactic savior. Not what she expected at all. 

He was also gorgeous, tan skin almost as dark as her own and sandy brown hair only barely long enough to curl. His eyes were a steely blue-gray, though warmer and kinder than the color would suggest. And his body…she’d never seen a soldier who was in bad shape but Sully was absolutely ripped. His shirt, stretched tight across the muscles of his chest, shoulders, and back, left nothing to the imagination except whether the tattoos on his neck and arms continued under the fabric and how far.

Not that it mattered, she reminded herself, dropping her eyes before he caught her staring. This was not a dating show. Back to business.

“So, I’m guessing you don’t have any dance experience? Besides the chicken dance. And the Robot?”

“None whatsoever,” he confirmed cheerfully. “I can sway in place with the best of them, though. Got lots of dances with girls back in school.”

“This is not quite that.” She shook her head, a small smiling tugging at the corners of her mouth. “But I’d guess it means you have rhythm. And you said you’re a musician, so you can count?”

“Yeah,” he said. “I’ve been playing guitar since I was like six.”

“Any injuries I need to know about?”

He laughed, a deep, rolling laugh from his belly that came with tears leaking from his eyes. He started to answer more than once only to stop and laugh some more. Finally, he said, “Define ‘need to know.’”

“Anything that inhibits you from moving or could be made worse by dancing. Anything that I need to take into consideration when I’m choreographing.” She hadn’t noticed any tightness or guarding so far but old issues could be easy to miss. “We do get injuries sometimes but I prefer avoiding them when possible.”

“Well, I died,” he said matter-of-factly, “so I don’t think it’s possible to make it worse than that. My left knee’s been shattered and rebuilt, so pivots on that leg, excessive weight-bearing, probably not a good idea. Everything else is manageable or already fixed.”

“I’m sorry.” She shook her head, sure she’d heard him correctly and uncertain how it was possible. “You  _ died _ ?”

“I was pretty sorry about it, too,” he quipped. “Two years I could’ve been dealing with more important shit. Playing footie, pissing off the Alliance, learning to paint. Instead, I wasted it napping.” He added quickly, “I’m fine now, though. Nothing to worry about. The knee is from the end of the war. Totally different.”

She eyed him; she’d make sure PT had a brace on hand just in case. “I need you to tell me if it bothers you. Or anything does. I’d rather cut a trick or lose a point than have to pull out entirely.”

“Harbinger didn’t get me down. Pretty sure I’ll be safe with you, darling,” he said with a playful wink. She raised her eyebrow at the endearment but it was too casual to bother her even slightly.

“Just steer clear of my cooking and we’ll be fine,” she answered and he laughed, leaning back against the railing again. “I’m a disaster in the kitchen but I’ll take good care of you in the ballroom, promise. Last bit of housekeeping, we need to list you as a lead or a follow. You’re welcome to do either but you can’t switch once we turn it in.”

“I don’t follow well,” he said. His eyes sparkled mischievously as he added, “At least, not in public.”

“Good by me.” A minute ago she would have been ecstatic at the chance to do lifts with him but now the glint in his eyes completely overshadowed it. She tilted her head, letting her hair fall away from the side of her neck, and added, “I like it both ways.”

His gaze intensified on her. “Do you now?”

“Apparently you haven’t seen  _ all _ my dances,” she answered, meeting his eyes and holding them. She leaned forward but hadn’t gone more than an inch before the soft whirr of a camera bot stopped her. Not. A. Dating. Show. She took a full step back and looked past Sully to Kallo asking, “You get what you needed?”

“For now. We’ll need to pad it but I think at the studio would be better. And I’m sure you want to get started. Ten days till opening night.”

Sully’s eyes never left hers. “You lead the way. I’ll lead the dance.”

* * *

They were dancing a foxtrot to “Don’t Fear the Reaper.”

Veerla named the song with a mix of embarrassment and amused exasperation, and he laughed at the apt choice. He didn’t know what a foxtrot was, but the song was great.

The shoes weirded him out, though. After changing into sweatpants and a t-shirt, he’d met her in their assigned practice room and she had immediately given him his shoes. At first glance they looked like a pair of plain black Oxfords, almost identical to what he wore with his dress blues. However, the soles were suede instead of rubber, making them more flexible on his feet and smoother on the floor. They looked ridiculous with his workout clothes.

She had shaken her head watching him flex and point his foot, trying to get used to the feel of them. “Just wait until they get you into sequin-covered tux.”

“They’ll be rainbow, right? The sequins? Because if they’re not rainbow, I’m not wearing them,” he teased.

“I’m sure we can figure something out,” she answered with a grin.

After a stretch and warm up, she started teaching him the basic foxtrot steps and then their choreography specifically. She was cautious at first, safe and simple with the movements, but started adding more complexity once she realized how quickly he picked it up. He actually surprised himself, if he was being honest. Once he knew what he was supposed to do with his body, it wasn’t so different from playing the guitar, settle into the rhythm and follow the music. 

It also had another incentive he hadn’t expected. The more dancing they did, the more open Veerla became, exposing veins of playfulness in her serious professionalism. 

She had a laugh like silver, he discovered, bright and clear and well-worth making a fool of himself demonstrating his skill at the chicken dance and the Robot. The way the corners of her lavender eyes crinkled had even convinced him to show off his signature Shepard Shuffle, and she had giggled for a full minute before regaining her composure and having him run the last four 8 counts again, this time without her. She was damned cute when she giggled. 

“One last thing before we take a break,” she said, nearly three hours in. “I want to just touch on hold and frame. Frame is our lines and shaping individually and hold is our position together. It’s another big thing the judges will be looking for and it makes a huge difference in making a dance look  _ nice _ . So you’ll start with your arms up, like this.”

Facing the mirror, she put her arms up, her elbows just slightly lower and forward from her shoulders. Both her elbows were bent, the left with her hand up like the queen’s wave, the right almost parallel to the ground. He tried to copy the position.

“That’s actually not bad at all,” she said. She slid around behind him and gently pressed down his shoulders in turn while lifting the elbow. He had to remind himself to focus on what she was saying and not just the touch of her hands on him. “Don’t raise your shoulders or you’ll lose your neck.” She ran her hand along his side, making him shiver. “It’s more back here.”

She circled back around and examined his reflection. Her eyes lingered on the shape of his arms and he was pretty sure there was some appreciation mixed in with the assessment.

“Feel good?”

“Yeah.” About as good as standing at attention his first day at basic, but he was used to exercises that required holding his arms up for long periods. “Great.”

She laughed. “I know you’ve got the strength, but I want to get you as comfortable with it as possible by the show. It seems easy enough until you have to hold it for three minutes straight, while also worrying about your footwork and theatricality.”

“Just three minutes? And here I thought we’d be doing it for hours.” He realized how dirty that sounded as soon as it was out of his mouth, but oh well. Too late to take it back now. She raised an eyebrow at him but the eyes underneath were smiling. 

“Steps first. Frame is polish, I just don’t want you to be surprised by it later. Now for a proper hold…” She stepped up facing him, offset just slightly to his right, and moved him into place as she explained, “My right hand goes in your left. Like you’re holding a cup, don’t interlace the fingers. Your right hand goes on the back of my shoulder, almost into my armpit. Good.” Her left hand rested on his bicep, her arm on top of his but held on its own so he didn’t have to support its weight. She shook her shoulders and he felt the movement through their arms and into his own. “There should always be…energy here, tension. Just enough of a push that we can feel each other.” 

She took a small step forward, slotting herself in next to him so the front of her left side was pressed gently into his right. Even with the contact, her legs were just enough between his that their knees wouldn’t trip each other when they started moving. The scent of what he thought was lilac drifted from her silky hair, making him want to bury his face in it. 

“While we’re in hold, closed hold, we should have four points of contact. One.” She squeezed her right hand in his left. “Two.” She rolled her shoulder blade back into his left hand. “Three.” She bumped her right elbow down into his and tightened her grip on his arm. “Four.” She leaned forward to push her hip a little more firmly into his. “They’re how you’re going to tell me what to do. When the lead takes a step forward…” She did and the only way to keep the space and shape between them was for him to move backward. “The follow takes a step back. Just like that. Now your go. What do you want me to do?”

_ Oh, wouldn’t you like to know?  _ He smirked, causing a faint blush to spread from her cheeks across her nose and she swallowed hard. He watched the movement in her throat, which only deepened the color. Seemed he wasn’t the only one making unintentional comments. 

“What we worked on,” she prompted. “Step, step, side, close. Slow, slow, quick, quick.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he drawled.

* * *

First dress rehearsal ran long as always and by the time Veerla had been excused by the costuming department and changed into street clothes it was well past dinner time. Her stomach audibly growled as she scanned the ballroom for Sully but she didn’t see him. He must have left already. It wasn’t surprising—her gown had needed significant alterations so her fitting had taken longer than usual—but she was sorry to have missed him.

The last week and a half had flown by and she could barely believe the premier was tomorrow. The time before the first show was usually her least favorite part of the season because of all the extra publicity engagements, necessary groundwork but not something she’d ever enjoyed until Sully. His goofy antics and infectious sense of humor made even the most tedious interviews and photoshoots fun. Her favorite so far was when he’d described her as dancing like a bandy-bandy, a snake from his home country on Earth: graceful, fluid, and capable of moving in ways that shouldn’t be physically possible for anything with a skeleton. It was also venomous, he admitted, but that was okay since she hadn’t bitten him. The look on his face when she added “yet” had been worth all the ribbing from James after.

Her disappointment was compounded by the fact that she’d been planning to invite him to dinner. She would still have tomorrow with him for final dress and the performance and then the next week since there wasn’t an elimination on the first show, but it wasn’t enough. She wanted more time, every minute she could get, and she’d finally decided she didn’t care if it was a dating show or not. Asking him out for a late dinner after a long day had seemed like the perfect place to start until her plan was ruined by an ill-fitting dress. 

She sighed to herself, maybe next time, and stepped out onto the street only to find the man in question standing at the rapid transit station across the way.

“Hey, Sully!” she called, hiking her dance bag a little higher on her shoulder as she trotted toward him. “Hold up!”

“Hey, there. How’s it going?”

“Good enough. I was going to grab dinner and I’d love some company. Your company. If you’re hungry. I know a great noodle place down on the Silversun Strip.”

A slow smile spread over his face, lighting it up like sunrise and starting a glowing warmth in her chest. “I’d like that a lot, actually. Better than cold pizza, right?”

“Undoubtedly,” she answered, wrinkling her nose at the thought. She leaned past him, maybe a little closer than strictly necessary, and keyed in their destination on the terminal. “How’re you feeling about tomorrow?”

“How bad can it be?” he asked, placing a hand lightly on her lower back and opening the taxi door for her. “I mean, worst case scenario, I drop you. Wait. No. That would  _ actually _ be bad. I promise not to drop you. Or to catch you if I do.”

“You won’t drop me,” she said, and she had never been more sure of anything in her life. “Did you invite anyone to the premier? Family? Friends?” She shifted her weight and added, as casually as she could, “Date?”

He chuckled. “Oh, I’m sure my crew will be there to laugh me on. My mum’s already at my place. She’s…amused, to say the least. No date. Don’t know how it would work as a pick up line. ‘Come watch me dance my arse off with a smoking hot woman.’ I dunno. What do you think? Does it work?” His gray eyes sparkled as he grinned down at her.

“Depends on who you’re trying to pick up,” she answered, trying not to preen too much at the fact he thought she was ‘smoking hot.’ She scooted toward him a little on the seat and when he didn’t pull away rested a hand on his knee, far enough down not to be improper.

“Why would I try to pick someone up when I’ve got a smoking hot dance partner to take to dinner?” he asked with a wink, casually draping his arm over her shoulders.

“Ploy for jealousy, playing hard to get,” she teased, nestling in closer to him. “Maybe bandy-bandies aren’t your type. Maybe you prefer…I don’t know, some kind of deadly spider. Australia has those too, right?”

He threw back his head and laughed. “Rachni had nothing on Oz’s spiders. But…I think my type is more along the lines of raven-haired dancers with purple eyes. Know any of those?”

“None come to mind,” she answered, after making a show of thinking about it. “But I’m sure I could convince Ash or James to put in a pair of contacts for you.”

He wrinkled his nose. “Nah. Not the same. Guess I’m just stuck with you, then. Too bad for me.” His arm tightened around her shoulders.

“Tough break, soldier.” She slid her hand a few inches higher on his thigh. “Best luck I’ve had in a while though.”

He grinned, nuzzling his jaw against her hair. His fingers trailed lightly up and down her arm. “Oh yeah?”

“Yep. If I had a type it would be tall, built men with leather jackets and sexy accents.”

“Oh. Damn. I’m screwed, then, aren’t I?” he joked.

“Not yet, you’re not.” The taxi stopped in front of the Noodle House and she slipped out then reached back for him before heading into the restaurant.

“I like the sound of that,” he said but stopped, taking her hand and twirling her around and tucking her up against him. The look on his face was more vulnerable than she’d ever seen it before. She studied him, her head tilting slightly as her eyes searched his.

“Sully?”

“Seriously, though, I know I’ve got a bit of a reputation, and I’m not saying that it’s not well-earned. But I really like you, and I’m not just looking for one night. So can we take things slow and see where they go? Is that all right?”

The utter honesty of his voice made her heart ache and she reached up to cup his cheek. There was no way one night with him would be enough and if going slow was the way to make it last she had never been more excited to wait.

“Of course it’s all right. Just have dinner with me. Call me smoking hot again. Tell me more about all the dangerous wildlife you grew up with. I’m not in a hurry and your reputation doesn’t worry me.” She tapped him gently under the chin and let a hint of impishness slip into her smile. “You also have one for dancing like an elcor with a bad leg but we’re setting that record straight tomorrow.”

“That one’s well-earned, too,” he chuckled, releasing his hold on her but keeping her hand in his much larger one. “But I’ve got a good partner for it.”

* * *

The moment of truth. Sully and Veerla stood backstage, watching James and Zula finish their dance. It would be their turn in just a few minutes, and he’d find out if he’d signed up to make a fool of himself on galactic vidscreen or not. 

Even if he did, it was worth it. He’d gotten to meet Veerla and spend time with her. She was as cute and sweet and driven as she seemed, genuine, and surprisingly funny at times despite her serious nature. He liked dancing with her, liked talking to her, liked it when she teased him. And she was even prettier in person.

“Veerla, Shepard, you’re up.”

He’d been staring at her. The stage was empty and their video package was finishing up on the screen behind the stage. Together, they went out and took their places. She gave his hand a small squeeze as the announcer introduced them:

“Dancing the foxtrot, Sully Shepard and his partner, Veerla Sterling.”

The music started, the iconic guitar strains and rhythmic cowbell almost a surprise after the otherworldly chorus the previous two had danced to. He had practice in ignoring large audiences, so he let them fade into a blur, pushing them out of his mind. Turning the focus that had taken him through countless impossible battles onto her, he began to move. 

She followed like they were one being, moving in tandem with him in a way that only Garrus had ever seemed to manage in the field. The scent of lilacs teased his nose. The music energized him. He threw himself into it, a beaming grin making his cheeks ache. He hadn’t had this much fun in  _ years _ . She smiled up at him like she was feeling the same thing, actually winked when they finished the reverse wave they’d spent a whole day drilling, and threw in a twist of her hips that had her dress swishing around her in a flourish. 

They traveled the dance floor together like it was the only space in the galaxy. It was almost a shock when the song reached its final bars. He turned her, once, twice, three times, and she followed without hesitation into a dip so low her hair brushed the floor, certain he was going to catch her. The crowd roared, not a single soul laughing, pointing, or jeering. He didn’t need the scores to know they’d killed it. 

Laughing, he swept her up into his arms and spun around with her. Her arms wrapped around his neck, and she shrieked a laugh, throwing her head back. God, she was fucking beautiful with those eyes the color of her signature scent and the glow of the lights gleaming off her dark hair like the shimmer of stars against the black of space. He was grinning like an idiot, but he didn’t care. He was fucking crazy about her.

Giddy in a way he hadn’t been even after killing the Reapers, he hugged her tight and pressed his lips to hers. He felt her breath hitch in her chest and then her arms tightened around his neck, fingers curling into his hair as she returned the kiss.

Perfect. Absolutely fucking perfect. A year ago, he’d been convinced he wouldn’t survive the day. He’d stopped planning ahead because if he had plans, he had something to lose, and he couldn’t afford that. Now, though, the future was laid out before him. For the first time since Eden Prime, he had something worth planning for.

**Author's Note:**

> [Don't Fear The Reaper](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PVn6b9QQZeM) by Blue Oyster Cult


End file.
